


Interlude

by Ulan



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blindfolds, Friends With Benefits, Lindon, M/M, Mild BDSM, PWP, Praise Kink, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 05:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: In a world wracked with a whirlwind of action and expectations, in the evenings, Glorfindel suspends it all—with a bit of help.





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> All these ASMR videos YouTube keeps recommending to me is getting out of hand. (But thanks for the inspiration, I guess?)

The fire crackles as Glorfindel waits, seated in the middle of the room. He hears the sound of his breathing—long breaths, slow and steady—while somewhere in his vicinity are shuffling cloth, bare feet on carpet, something (perhaps a hair ornament) placed on a wooden surface.

Glorfindel listens, because there is not much else one can do behind a blindfold and with one's wrists tied behind him on a chair.

The night air is cool against his naked skin.

"Comfortable?"

There is movement in the air that tells Glorfindel that his companion just walked past him. The footfalls are also a clue, as well as the shift of cloth against the rug.

He knows it is for his benefit, for otherwise he would hear nothing, so good is the other at prowling the palace hallways with no one the wiser of his presence.

The air grows warmer. Glorfindel senses it gradually, and like a trained pet, his body follows suit. It begins on his face, the flush blooming on his cheeks. Within their restraints, his fingers twitch—but that is all, no more than this, for again, he is trained well enough to keep still.

Next comes the caress on his hair. He does not feel the touch directly, but the sensation travels along the strands to the roots of his hair, little pinpricks that travel down from his head to his neck and arms. He does not move, but it is as though the other recognises the effect on him anyway. Glorfindel hears a low, pleased humming near his ear.

This time, he shudders.

"How hard were you?"

The voice has in it traces of amusement. Glorfindel swallows.

They had council that day. The High King called for a meeting among his councillors, though it was his chief adviser who presided. It was all rather standard. Erestor presented a combination of reports from guilds throughout Lindon, his words and manner precise and perfected by years doing these things. Their agenda for that day was a question of resources, for more and more did Gil-galad recognise the need to allocate more for the army, and it had been up to them to determine how.

The meeting stretched on for three hours, and that was even but the start of many such meetings. All around them, many things were brewing—unrest at court, disagreements in Ost-in-Edhil, some unnameable thing lurking in light of the warnings from the Valar. Glorfindel felt the weight of them, especially as questions to him now came everyday. The shadows lurking in Middle-Earth, too, are a stark reverse to the intensity of Aman lingering still in his mind. It had not been long since he returned to these lands after all, enclosed once again by marbled walls and all its politics.

Amidst all of that, Glorfindel raised his eyes to find the chief adviser's eyes on him. Erestor's voice was perhaps the only saving grace of that meeting. Glorfindel had taken note of it almost immediately upon his arrival, drawn to its low, honeyed timbre, nevermind the intelligence of his counsel. Erestor's words were calculated, heavy with his thoughts and care, and when he spoke his eyes matched the words. Sharp and green like living pools under sunlight, they pinned his targets and forced them to listen.

_To every word._

Glorfindel listened to him. Despite the threats before them, the looming chaos of it all, and even when he recited something mundane such as the type of fertiliser they needed for the farms, Erestor's voice was mellow and calming, even soothing to Glorfindel's ears. When he stood beside Glorfindel's seat and fielded questions there, Glorfindel fidgeted maybe once or twice. It was a good voice, but perhaps better in private than anywhere else.

That same voice takes Glorfindel back to the present, in his rooms now, just the two of them. Erestor has circled around Glorfindel so he stands behind him. The adviser leans down, close enough so that Glorfindel can smell the faint perfume in his hair, familiar and heady.

That deep voice hums near his right ear. "Not quite as hard now, however." The words are nearly a whisper, and Glorfindel feels the smooth fall of the other's sleeves on his bare shoulder and chest as much as he does the thrilling susurration beneath his skin. "No matter."

Glorfindel's gasps then, for following that voice is the sensation of knuckles brushing lightly against his cock. It has just begun to take interest in the proceedings as soon as Erestor was close by, but direct contact is always altogether different. His head falls back against a strong shoulder as the caressing continues, the bindings around his wrists stretching as he reacts to that touch.

“Did the meeting stress you out?” Whispers, both voice and touch, continue their slow caress. “Poor captain. The guild masters will not be happy at whatever allocation we come up with. Words about the army are sure to come and many naysayers shall step forward, but alas, needs must.”

Glorfindel’s breaths begin to sound loud in his ears. He can feel the sweat beading at the roots of his hair, feel every fibre of muscle on his arms as though they are trembling at the teasing. Erestor’s breaths are hot against his ear, sensitive now with the words streaming in every time Erestor speaks.

Glorfindel's lips part and a cry escapes him, as this time fingers wrap around his cock. They are warm and their movements sure as they slide up and down, coaxing him to further hardness. Lips brush along the shell of his ear. "Good? Shall I put my mouth on you?"

He can feel the flush on his face all the way down his chest. His stomach rises and falls in time with his quickening breaths, the muscles there straining as blood continues to pump down to his cock. His mind is only too quick to accept the suggestion, too. It explodes in colour, heat, sensation, a heady mix of both memories and fantasies—what it is like to have Erestor's lips around him, tongue flat along the shape of his cock as it drags up to trace a throbbing vein.

Glorfindel has _dreams_ about that mouth. Between nights of fire and shadow, of burning white walls, or even the blinding light of Valinor and the heavy whisperings of some faceless Vala, Glorfindel finds he could breathe with dreams of pillow-soft lips, a wicked tongue, hands that know how to touch him. Somehow, he makes it easy to forget, because by _Eru_ when Erestor speaks, his voice seeps through Glorfindel's skin and flows like honey through his veins.

"Please," he begs, already, which is impressive—or pitiful, depending on whose perspective one is looking from, considering that it is his first word for the evening.

The air shifts. There is a rustle of cloth as cool air replaces the warmth brought by Erestor's breaths and proximity. Glorfindel shuts his mouth to keep from calling out, and anyhow, the distraction is momentary, as he trusted it would be. His attention is once again pulled by a hand on his knee. Glorfindel’s breath hitches as that hand pushes his legs to spread wider, the low ‘thud’ on the hardwood floor calling forth the image of Erestor on his knees in front of him.

Glorfindel’s head tips forward in anticipation. It makes Erestor chuckle, deep and amused. He shudders at the sound.

"Lean forward for me."

He obeys—immediately, perhaps too eagerly. But Erestor does not call him out on it, so that Glorfindel is only free to moan as he is taken into a kiss. The kiss is hot, open-mouthed. Erestor's tongue licks at Glorfindel's and he takes it, sucking it in, mouth watering at the lust the other easily ignites. Erestor's kisses are a prelude to sex, wet and often offered with tongue, which is just as well, because even outside of kisses, Erestor's lips are a sight that can easily push a man to wild fancies.

Erestor pulls away and just like that, in the next breath and with no other warning, he swoops down to take Glorfindel's cock in his mouth. Glorfindel groans, body doubling forward as he is taken into that glorious, wet heat. With his mind still swimming through fantasies about that very mouth, it is all he can do to keep it together. His head feels hot and his skin must be so red, so flushed does he feel.

Blindfolded as he is, he cannot watch to see what Erestor will do next. But the lack of sight only serves to heighten sensation. He feels it keenly when Erestor drags his mouth up Glorfindel’s length, keeping that mind-melting suction as he goes. He feels it as Erestor’s lips enclose around the head, tongue flicking at the slit, his fingers at the base and holding Glorfindel’s cock against his mouth as he continues to lap along its sides. He _feels_ it, even groans through it, when Erestor moans around his mouthful and sucks him down whole, on and on until the head slides down the back of Erestor’s throat.

 _By Elbereth,_ that mouth. Not only does it succeed in pushing Glorfindel to distraction during the day, but it does even worse like this, behind bedroom doors. Erestor’s pulls out and sucks him back in, again and again until his cock is fully hard and aching and Glorfindel can barely stand it.

He probably said something, or grunted something, to warn Erestor, for the other pulls away at the next instant.

"We cannot have you finish too fast, can we?" A finger tilts his chin up and a light kiss is bestowed on Glorfindel's lips. It does nothing to quell the fire in his gut, threatening to burst. "Or do you want the night to end so soon?"

The words are spoken without inflection, but Glorfindel recognises them for the threat that they are. He pauses for a moment, takes several calming breaths.

"No," he answers.

He imagines Erestor smiling from the sound of his exhale. "Good boy."

 _Stars, that voice._ Had Glorfindel’s eyes been open, they would have shut right there, so completely did those two words engulf him. His fingers twitch involuntarily behind him, and this time, he hears the laughter.

"What? Did that do something for you?" Erestor stands but stays between Glorfindel's legs. His knees are probably touching the edge of the chair where Glorfindel is seating, so closely did he seem to stand before him. Fingertips slide below Glorfindel's chin and tilts it further up. "Do you like to hear me say you look good like this, quiet and obedient before me? To think that this would be what you need, oh dear, beloved captain.”

Shudders wrack beneath Glorfindel’s skin once again as those fingers travel down the sides of his face, down his neck. They trace along his collarbone.

“You do please me, Glorfindel,” Erestor goes on to say. “Why else would I be here?"

Erestor's voice is already naturally smooth and deep. As a councillor, as a loremaster, he is well-versed in the oral arts. Glorfindel cannot remember a time when the other stumbled on his words, or even stutter. Words flow from him as though he has spent an entire evening in their composition, and here, in private, when his attention is focused on a single target instead of a congregation, he is positively lethal.

"Pretty thing..." The endearment flows from Erestor as smoothly as any compliment Glorfindel has heard him bestow to kings. "Before you came I would just spend my evenings alone in study, or reading for leisure. I can say at least that you are more entertaining than a book.”

Glorfindel does his best not to be riled by the low standard by which he is being compared, but Erestor chuckles anyway. "Of course, I suppose I could have had my pick of the others here. It is not as if we have a shortage of pretty things, be it from the smart, learned members of my staff, as well only too eager to please, or even the toned, sun-kissed specimens from the practice fields. They can do nicely, too, don't you think?"

This time, the prickling beneath Glorfindel's skin is tinged with something else. Behind the blindfold he can see all the others, everyone whose eyes linger when Erestor passes them. It is true; if he so wishes, Erestor can have them, if Glorfindel were to judge based on how they look at him. The adviser, after all, is himself a beautiful thing. His manner only serves to edge him higher above the rest of Lindon, for he is strong, intelligent, intense. He took Glorfindel’s breath away the first time they met. Who knows how many others felt the same?

His hands clench within their restraints.

"Aah, but thinking such things is moot." Erestor continues to speak as though he does not notice the tension in Glorfindel. "I never took them, and here you already are." He bends down, one hand a heavy weight on Glorfindel’s knee, the other under Glorfindel’s chin, holding him in place as Erestor leaves a playful but almost soothing peck on his lips. “I find you do nicely.”

Glorfindel only has about a moment to wonder what it makes him, when he is so easily riled and appeased. But just when he thinks that that kiss is all he is getting, Erestor follows it up with another, more serious one the second time around. Glorfindel is quick to take the peace-offering, and Erestor opens his mouth to him, taking Glorfindel’s tongue and giving his own when asked. He even wraps his arms around Glorfindel’s neck, fingers buried in his hair, nails scraping lightly at his scalp.

"Where do you want me?"

It is not the first time he has asked Glorfindel this. Glorfindel swallows down the roughness that scrapes at his throat. Excitement, once again, begins to prickle at his skin. "On-- on me."

Glorfindel hears the shifting of cloth, Erestor lifting the hems of his robe before sitting himself on Glorfindel’s lap, straddling his legs. "Like this?"

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his neck. Glorfindel nods.

The smooth slide of skin against skin is heady, especially with one as fine as Erestor’s. The edge of his nails scrape along Glorfindel’s back as he shifts to make himself comfortable. "And?"

By now, Glorfindel’s cock is resting at the cleft of Erestor’s cheeks. For all of his intensity, his style of intimidation, Erestor nevertheless has the arse made for finer, more decadent endeavours. They are full, soft things that can engulf Glorfindel without taking him in the tightness within, the cheeks enough to push him to the edge when they rub against him just so. They threaten to tease him that way now, rubbing him back and forth, but the fact that they are also slick with oil only pulls Glorfindel’s mind to greedier desires.

“Erestor--”

Hot breath brushes past Glorfindel’s ear. “What do you want, Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel gasps as Erestor reaches around, and with one hand behind him while the other remains around Glorfindel’s neck, he pushes Glorfindel’s cock so it fits tighter along the cleft between his cheeks. He then begins to buck forward and back, rubbing Glorfindel against the slick, mind-numbing heat of the delicate skin there. Glorfindel breathes through his mouth as Erestor pulls back a little further so that the head nudges at the puckered entrance, tempting him, only to pull a groan from Glorfindel as he slides down again.

“Tell me what you want.”

There is no hesitation this time. “I want to be inside you,” comes Glorfindel’s breathless answer, hot in the evening air, emboldened by desire.

“Good. And?”

"I want you to ride me."

His golden head falls back as Erestor promptly acquiesces, rising up to align them once again and then sinking down. This time, guided by Erestor’s hand, the head of Glorfindel’s cock breaches his entrance, and it is quickly followed by the rest of him. Glorfindel can only cry out as he is slowly sucked in.

“Aahhh--” By the Valar, the _heat_ of him!

"Like that?" Erestor’s voice is strained, and for the first time that evening, he, too, begins to sound breathless. "You fill me well. Can you feel that, how tight I am around you?"

Yes, Glorfindel can feel it. Erestor is hot around him, a tight glove around Glorfindel’s cock, which he teased all evening. He is fully hard now and he knows, from Erestor once telling him, that it takes a while to get used to his girth. But the manner by which Erestor shared such information told Glorfindel that he did not say it as a bad thing—far from it. Erestor, after all, is lustful, greedy, and he appreciates someone who gives as good as he gets.

"Good,” he hears Erestor say. “You feel good."

Oh, he wants to see him. Erestor scrabbles at Glorfindel’s shoulders before his hands find purchase behind him, braced against Glorfindel’s legs. Like that, he pushes himself up and down, and for Glorfindel, to be seated there as Erestor moves above him, it is heaven not even memories of Aman can match.

"Erestor--"

But just like that, the adviser stops. Fingers bury in Glorfindel’s hair and _pulls_ , enough so Glorfindel hisses at the shock, distracted even as Erestor adjusts them so his knees are tucked on the seat on either side of Glorfindel.

He holds himself above Glorfindel. “Move.”

Glorfindel huffs out a breath, but plants his feet on the floor at the order. He bucks up, missing that tight heat around him. Erestor has to help him in once again, but the heat that swallows him in is as good as the first time. They find their rhythm once again in no time, this time with Glorfindel doing most of the work.

"Yes, that's it..." Erestor's voice, sweet and gently coaxing him, makes it difficult to mind whatever strain he is putting Glorfindel through. "Just like that. You are doing great, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel groans at the encouragement, his hips rising from the chair as they push his cock up deeper into that hot body. It is good, delicious even, to buck up to the beat of lust one feels coursing through one’s veins, and have a body there waiting to receive it. Erestor's words stream through his ears, too, a constant flow of "yes" and "keep going, that's it" coming in until Glorfindel is drowning, unable even to contain or even filter out the noises he makes. Who knows what he in turn is saying, his mind filled only with the desire to chase after the pleasure, so close now before him.

And then Erestor once again locks his arms around Glorfindel shoulders and neck, taking purchase as he moves against him. He meets Glorfindel’s thrusts, and this time Glorfindel _knows_ he cried out, for with their joint effort Erestor is taking him even deeper, all of him down to the base. And then, in and out, hard and fast until Glorfindel’s legs are straining even though it is impossible now for him to stop. His arms strain at their bonds, for had they not been tied, they surely would have been clutching at Erestor’s hips to keep him in place as Glorfindel fucks him again and again.

But the restraints are there, and there is only so much Glorfindel can do with them in place. Erestor seems to sense him struggling, for he positions them so the deep thrusts go more smoothly and rhythmically.

And that does it. It takes only a little more of that before a tortured moan is wrenched out from Glorfindel, and he begs, “Please. Please, I am coming--”

“Ssh…” If anything, the soft command only pushes Glorfindel further. “That’s it. Good boy. You may come. Come, Glorfindel--”

\--and he does, long and loudly. His voice is muffled in Erestor’s mouth, the other having captured his lips at the moment of orgasm, in which Erestor joins him within moments, his hand fisted around his own cock between them. Glorfindel’s body is wracked with tremors, strained as he has been by the ties, his lack of sight, the long teasing. Mixed with Erestor’s indulgent caresses, perfectly calculated to Glorfindel’s pleasure, it brought Glorfindel to a height he only ever reaches with this Elf as his partner.

It is a while after that before they move. Erestor does so first, pulling himself up and off of Glorfindel with a strained, satisfied moan. Glorfindel hisses at the cool air Erestor leaves behind, but the other eventually returns, this time with a damp cloth that he uses to wipe Glorfindel clean. He rubs it down Glorfindel’s chest and stomach, between his legs still slick with oil, on his still sensitive cock. Glorfindel moans at the latter, which earns him a kiss for his troubles.

“I have an early morning tomorrow,” says Erestor, between kisses. His fingers trace lightly along Glorfindel’s cheek and even tucks a stray hair there behind his ear. “I therefore beg your pardon, but I must leave you with just this tonight.”

There is not much Glorfindel can say to that. Given their ranks, there is little that precedes duty, and this has never been a thing of debate between them.

Next, Erestor circles once again behind Glorfindel. He takes care of the bindings this time, untying the cloth he wrapped around Glorfindel’s wrists earlier. He even rubs the blood back into them and squeezes at the strained muscles of Glorfindel’s arms, helping him readjust them back to a comfortable position. The blindfold, however, remains.

“Is there anything else you need from me before I go?”

The question comes a little to Glorfindel’s side. He tilts his face towards that direction before shaking his head. “None, thank you.”

The room is cool when Erestor leaves. The door closes behind him, and it is only then that Glorfindel reaches out to remove the blindfold. He sighs at the return of his sight, though he remains on that chair, arms on either side with the blindfold even still hanging from one hand. He tilts his head back.

Tomorrow comes duty—again, as always and as it should be. Few things yet make sense to him in a world so changed, but somehow he once again leads an army, is adviser to a king, and on the horizon looms shadow that is eerily familiar despite the passing of the years.

Someday, perhaps, this thing with Erestor would lead to more questions than they answer. But tonight, Glorfindel’s ears tingle at the memory of Erestor’s breath and his voice, the words he whispered as he fucked Glorfindel with a conviction that seemed a rarity in those unsteady times.

The fire crackles. It is peace enough for now.


End file.
